DA Michaels
by somebody101
Summary: It was his fault, and he knew it before anyone else had taken the time to point it out. No one had ever told him just how powerful guilt could be, and, in the end, it all comes down to a short phone call and a long drive.


**D.A. Michaels

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**

He wasn't stupid. Not usually. It had been a mistake, and accident. He had never dreamed something like that would happen.

Dumb Ass Michaels. He knew that was his new nickname. Except he never used that word, and hated to even think it, all because it had _his_ name in it. He could hardly bring himself to say that name; he knew he had no right to say it. He liked to think of it as more of a title, one that he had bestowed upon himself, one that he felt he deserved.

No one knew sick until something like that happened to someone they were supposed to protect from the bad guys. He thought those entrails had been disgusting. Now he knew just how much more powerful guilt could be. After he had been suspended he had spent days literally lying alone in his bathroom throwing up, and eventually dry heaving. Then he had forced himself to pull it back together, just in time to have a large meal and unfortunately catch the evening news.

Seeing Nick Stokes' picture was bad. Seeing where he had been buried alive was worse. Seeing a snapshot of a reporter of the man on a gurney being wheeled into the hospital put him right back in his bathroom. It was a full two days before he managed to drag himself out of the small bathroom of his apartment and to his bed.

He would try to justify it at times. The man hadn't had the slightest problem with him turning his back for those few precious seconds while he threw up. The CSI had been polite as hell, even going so far to kindly offer a piece of gum.

It had taken him two months to build up the courage to call _him_. He hadn't expected to hear an elderly woman answer, let alone introduce herself as Jillian Stokes. In hindsight, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised. He had learned a lot about Nick, and he knew the man had a large, loving family. He had seen both parents in the halls of the lab where he had waited for news by trying to listen in on what was going on.

"_I'm sorry, but my son can't come to the phone right now. He's still pretty worn out, maybe you should call back in a few days."_

He was self-admittedly stupid, but he knew a brush off when he heard one. That shouldn't have surprised him either. She had obviously gone to ask Nick if he wanted to talk to him, and it was pretty obvious that Nick had told her no.

Three long months later, and at least a few dozen unanswered calls later he finally saw them at a crime scene. He recognized both of them instantly. They had been there in May. They were _his_ friends, _his_ colleagues.

Nick had been back in the lab for a while now. He had started back in the field just two weeks ago. When he received glares from countless people he couldn't bring himself to look at any of them in the eyes. And he was especially nervous as he hauled a homeless man through the Police Department and passed Jim Brass in the hallway.

Being on that man's bad side was an experience he wished to never feel again. He had been reduced to tears when Brass had set him in his office, and forced him to look at some of the evidence they had found.

"_God damn it- you don't know how lucky you are. If… if we hadn't found him… I guarantee you'd wish you were never born. So, you're being demoted, receiving a pay cut, and you get six weeks suspension."_

He hadn't told the man staring daggers at him that he already wished he hadn't been born. There was no changing what had happened, no matter how much he wanted to. In the back of his mind he had wondered briefly just how bad his punishment would have been if Nick Stokes hadn't been rescued. He wasn't sure it mattered, because he knew he wouldn't have been able to live with the knowledge that a man had died because he had felt a bit queasy at a crime scene.

After his brief talk with _his_ colleagues at a crime scene he gave up trying to contact Nick. He had come to decide that he should have to live with his mistake, and that he needed to accept that he would never be able to tell Nick just how terribly sorry he was.

Then it had happened. The last thing in the world he had ever expected.

Nick called him.

The conversation was one he would never forget.

"_Michaels."_

"_Uh… I- I'm not sure why I called…"_

"_I'm sorry. Please- please forgive me. I let you down… God, I can hardly stand knowing that this is my fault, please, I know I don't have any right to ask you for forgiveness… but I need it."_

"_I… I don't know what to say. It wasn't your fault. The only one to blame is Walter Gordon."_

"_No, if I hadn't turned my back-"_

"_I don't blame you for what happened… can't exactly forgive you 'cause of that."_

"_I… I don't know what to say…"_

"_Yeah, uh- you're not the, uh, only one. I should, uh, probably get going."_

"_A-alright."_

Then Nick had hung up. His voice had been nervous, shaky. Nothing like the voice that had offered him a piece of bubble gum. It had been a great comfort knowing that Nick didn't hold any of what happened against him. At the same time he almost wished that he would blame him, just like everyone else blamed him for what happened.

That was when he had left Vegas. Without a single word. All he had done was leave his badge and gun on the large wood desk while Jim Brass wasn't in his office. Then he had gotten in his car, driven to the bank, collected his little amount of savings and took off. He knew he wouldn't be missed. The few friends he had no longer wanted to have anything to do with him.

He was still driving. At the moment he was somewhere in the middle of a field in Nebraska. At certain moments tears would flood his eyes, and his chest would constrict painfully. Eventually he'd stop, and start a new life, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to somehow find a way to live with his mistake.

He even dared to hope that someday he would be Dumb Ass Michaels anymore.

So he drove on. His destination uncertain, his eyes taking in the dark, cloudy skies. The radio playing one sad, gloomy song after another. He had a feeling it would be a long time before he saw the sun again.

* * *

He just prayed that Nick Stokes could see it.

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**The End

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**

Notes: I've read a lot of stories set post 'Grave Danger' and I noticed all the ones that included Michaels seem to portray him as either an accomplice for a plot device, or else an insensitive jerk. So, I decided to take a bit of a different approach, and to take a look at what happened from his perspective. Let me know what you think, and hope you enjoyed this story.

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End file.
